The Trials and Tribulations of an Alien Flatmate
by JustStandingHere
Summary: "Having a flatmate was already enough to send some people mad. And, frankly, Rory Williams was a bit surprised that he hadn't gone off of the edge at this point. Having a human as a flatmate was difficult, he knew that. And, just his luck, Rory didn't get a human for a lodger; he got an alien." Flatmate AU


**Ah, yes. You're probably waiting for Changing the Equation to update. No worries, just a couple more days. But I did write this Eleven/Rory fic for my friend Callie the other day, and I have decided to post it here. If this ship is not your thing, I understand. However, I'm still going to post this anyways.**

**Reviews, as always, are very much appreciated.**

**Enjoy!**

**#**

Having a flatmate was already enough to send some people mad. And, frankly, Rory Williams was a bit surprised that he hadn't gone off of the edge at this point. Having a _human_ as a flatmate was difficult, he knew that. And, just his luck, Rory didn't get a human for a lodger; he got an alien.

He doesn't really know how it happened, it just did. He'd come into London with the ridiculously optimistic notion that he was going to be an independent young man who could pay for his own living space, even if he was just on an intern's salary. Goodbye Leadworth, hello thriving, successful bachelor. That's what he told himself. It was his own inner mantra when things didn't go as planned. Like when the grocery store ran out of his favorite brand of soda or, as a more relevant example, when his landlord told him he had two weeks to pay his rent. There wasn't an 'or else', but it was heavily implied.

Thirty flyers and twenty-four hours later, someone was knocking at his door.

Rory had been lounging on the sofa, and got up with a frown on his face. He opened the door with genuine suspicion. Perhaps Mr. Landlord had gotten impatient.

"Hello?" he asked, opening the door. He couldn't believe the sight that was before him.

He was tall, that was for certain, and very lean. And the way he dressed reminded Rory of his great uncle, what with the braces and the tweed. It wouldn't have looked so ridiculous if it weren't for the bright red bow tie tied neatly around his neck and the Jimmy Neutron rolling suitcase.

"Hello!" the stranger greeted, waving. "You're Rory Williams, yes?"

He nods. "Yeah, that's me."

"Excellent!" The stranger moved past Rory and walked inside of the flat without another word. "Nice place, good ceiling. Love a good ceiling, especially when they're nice and high. Gives me a lot more room."

"Um, excuse me, but-"

The stranger turned around, seemingly ignoring him. "I have my own room, yes? Not that sharing a bed would be a problem, if you prefer a communal lifestyle, but I do tend to be a bit of a sheet hoarder." He grinned sheepishly.

Rory turned red. "What? No! No you'd have your own bedroom, but-"

He started looking around the living room with a concerned look on his face. "I also tend to make a lot of noise, I'm a noisy type of person. I hope that won't bother you."

"I-what? Wait, we still need to discuss-"

"I'm guessing the white room with the dirty comforter is mine," he continued. He looked at Rory again and grinned. "I'll be in my bedroom if you need me."

By the time Rory had gotten over the initial shock of what had just happened, the door had already been shut. He walked over and pounded on the door until it opened.

"What is it?" the stranger asked.

"I can't let you stay here," Rory stated.

The stranger frowned. "Why not?"

"I don't have your credentials, your background history, your pay of the rent," he listed off easily. "I don't even have your name!"

"Ah, yes," the stranger realized. He closed the door on him, leaving Rory alone for the moment yet again. He returned not fifteen seconds later with a black wallet and the Jimmy Neutron suitcase. He threw the wallet at Rory. "Credentials and background." Next came the suitcase, which he opened to reveal wads and wads of cash all clumped together. He shoved it into Rory's arms. "Rent." Rory looked at him, bewildered. "Call me the Doctor. Nothing else, just the Doctor will do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a bedroom to put together."

The door closed again, and Rory looked at the suitcase in his arms and the wallet in his hand before looking back up again. "Doctor who?"

**#**

The next week was a weird one, to say he least. The "Doctor", as he was called, only rarely came out of his room, and when he did it as usually for food or water. They barely spoke, but when they did it was a simple "good morning" or "hello".

Not that Rory was complaining. The man did pay his half of the rent, and was quite nice. Very interesting. When they didn't have one-worded conversations, it was about things like food or plumbing, and the Doctor would go on these long rambles with facts and figures about things like how cheese was invented or how the chamber pot came to be. He claimed to be there for both occasions, which was impossible, but Rory was too consumed by the story to really care anyway.

One morning the man came out looking particularly exhausted, trudging out of his bedroom and collapsing onto the sofa next to Rory, draping one arm over his eyes.

Rory looked him over once. "You okay?"

"Coffee," the Doctor muttered. "I need. Coffee."

Rory frowned. "Were you up all night?"

"Yes," was the simple reply.

Rory waited for more, but when there was none he continued on. "Why were you up all night?" he inquired.

"Because I wanted to be. And now I'm regretting that decision."

It was silent for a couple moments, and Rory decided to take this as an opportunity to ask the questions he'd been harboring since the strange man walked inside of his flat. "Um...you've been in your room quite a lot."

"Yes, I was renovating," the Doctor explained. "Trying to make the place more homey, which believe it or not is quite difficult with what I've got."

"And what is that?"

"A screwdriver and paper." He took the arm off of his eyes and sat up straight, sniffling a bit. "Not much to go on, I'm afraid."

Rory got up and walked over to the kitchen. "Do you take yours black or with sugar?"

"What?"

"Your coffee."

"Oh. Black, I think." Rory went over to the cabinets and started searching for a mug. "It's just hard on its own to make a room look even remotely like a TARDIS, much less give it the same _feeling_ as it."

"TARDIS?" Rory asked.

"My ship," the Doctor clarified. "I uh...lost her, for the time being. Set off the emergency defense system by accident, now I've got to wait until she shows up again."

"Oh, is it a boat that travels the world or something?" he asked nonchalantly, grabbing a mug and the coffee pot. He started pouring.

"Actually, all of time and space," the Doctor corrected.

"What?" Rory looked up and set the pot down. "Come again?"

"TARDIS," the Doctor repeats. "Stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space. It's a time machine."

Rory looked at him. "A time machine."

The Doctor nodded.

"So that would make you..."

"A time traveller. Oh! And an alien."

"Ah." He took a moment to nod before going back to the coffee.

The Doctor frowned. "You don't seem too troubled."

Rory shrugged. "I've been in London for five months. You start...hearing things, seeing things. Should have expected that I'd have a time travelling alien for a flatmate." He finished pouring the coffee and walked over, handing the mug to the Doctor before sitting down and turning on the television.

"Well," the Doctor said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Glad that's worked out."

**#**

The Doctor is a strange man who does strange things. Rory knew that quite well.

Still, the staring was a bit odd. Even odd for the Doctor.

It wasn't an every day thing, but it had happened enough times for it to be a constant occurrence.

It happened when Rory wasn't looking, or-more accurately-when the Doctor _thought_ Rory wasn't looking. When Rory glanced behind himself before he entered his room or when he was getting ready for work at the hospital and he looked up for a split second.

It was just the Doctor. Staring at him.

And it should have made him uncomfortable. But it didn't.

**#**

Four weeks into flatmateship, the Doctor enrolled into school.

"You're going back to uni?" Rory asked, flipping through the brochure. By this time, things had settled into a simple rhythm. They knew who picked up the groceries for which week, who was going to get the mail, who had jurisdiction over the the bathroom at what time. It was nice, actually, getting into a routine. The domesticity seemed to gloss over the fact that one of the men had two hearts and lived eleven lives so easily it was hard to tell that it was even a fact in the first place. And, as of the moment, they were simultaneously making dinner.

The Doctor shrugged. "Never been to uni, never actually gone to school on earth before," he told him. "Well, except once or twice. And I was the teacher." He dumped the onions he was chopping into the pot and swerved around Rory, heading to the refrigerator. "Thought it might be fun."

"You already seem to know everything," Rory commented. "Why go to school?"

"Oh, Rory, you flatter me."

"It wasn't meant to be a compliment." Actually, it was. But he'd rather believe it wasn't.

The Doctor grabbed milk from the top shelf and shut the door closed. "Because. Sitting around here all day is boring. Buying milk is boring. This flat is boring."

"Am I boring as well?" Rory asked.

The Doctor. "Oh, no! No, no, no. You, Rory, are _fascinating_. Wonderfully and amazingly fascinating."

There was no response, but Rory smiled for the rest of the night.

**#**

The Doctor was fascinating as well.

All the stories he told, all the things he experienced. Who wouldn't be drawn to a man like that? He was funny, enigmatic, persuasive. Rory was surprised, frankly, that none of the girls at the university had gone after him with a personality like his. He could easily draw a person in with just a couple words if he wanted. A girl, a boy, whatever best fit him. But in the month and a half of Rory and the Doctor living together, never had there been any awkward 'morning after' confrontations or walks of shame through the front door. It was kind of perplexing, in a way.

However, that didn't mean that he didn't mind it.

**#**

Books. Books everywhere. And papers, too. There wasn't even a _flat_ anymore, it was just hardcover text books and printing paper. Rory tiptoed around the various stations set up and dropped his bag onto the sofa.

"Exams coming up?" he asked.

The Doctor emerged from his room, highly disheveled. The bow tie, braces, and jacket were gone completely and at least five buttons on his shirt had ceased to exist. His hair was pointing in every direction possible, and there was a look of panic on his face.

"How long was I out for?" he asked.

"Uhhh..." Rory stammered, staring at the man in front of him. He blinked and swallowed. "Um, what happened to you?"

The Doctor huffed and walked past Rory, going to one of the set stations and picking up a worksheet.

Rory looked the Doctor over once again before glancing at the door leading to his flatmate's bedroom. The realization hit him, but more like a ton of bricks rather than a simple idea. He picked up his bag. "Listen," he said. "If you want some alone time with your la-whoever is in there, I can just go."

The Doctor looked up from his worksheet. "What?"

"I mean, I'm sorry if I interrupted whatever sort of...study date this is, I guess," he corrected. "I can just go walk around town for a bit, get out of your hair."

The Doctor frowned for a couple moments before getting struck with clarity. "Oh! Oh, no." He looked down at himself and turned red. "Oh. You think that I-oh, my, that's embarrassing."

Rory blinked. "So, wait. You didn't-"

"No, no! I was studying all of last night and this morning and it looks like I sort of...collapsed."

Rory frowned, but there was a huge sigh of relief that moved through him. "How long have you been studying?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Two, maybe three."

"Hours?"

"Days."

"Days? Doctor, that's not healthy. You need to sleep."

"My body functions differently than a humans. As long as I don't overwork myself, I can stay awake for weeks without a single issue."

"Then why did you apparently collapse after three days?" Rory argued, look at him with a look he had specifically classified towards the Doctor. He liked to call it the "you're-quite-dumb-for-an-alien" look, and had it's variations including the "you're-such-a-fucking-child" look and the "why-did-you-do-that" look.

The Doctor stutters at that. "Well...studying is hard! I thought these subjects would be interesting, but they're missing all the fascinating parts. They want all the facts and figures."

Rory sat back down on the sofa, picking up a textbook and reading it with disdain. "Serves you right. Why did you want to study this rubbish in the first place?"

The Doctor took the worksheet with him to the kitchen, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. "Hey, history is cool. It's always changing, always moving."

Rory laughed and dropping the book on the table. "Yeah, well, maybe I could help you study when you choose something more interesting, like anatomy."

"Sure," the Doctor agreed quietly. "If it doesn't involve clothes, I'm in."

Rory turned his head toward the kitchen. "What did you say?"

"Nothing!" the Doctor reassured. "Just mumbling to myself. Got to study, got to get _back on track_. No time for distractions."

"Oh no," Rory denied, shaking his head. He stood up and started picking up all the worksheets and textbooks. "Nope, no more studying tonight."

The Doctor looked back from the kitchen, going wide-eyed. "No, no, no! Don't do that! You're messing up the organization!"

Rory looked around. "What kind of organization do you call this?"

"_My_ kind of organization, you wouldn't understand it. Now put that stuff back."

Rory continued to pick up the mess. "No. No more studying, no more exams. Tonight, you are going to relax and not worry. And that is that."

Twenty minutes and a broke lamp stand later they are on the sofa, flipping through the cable options while the Doctor is eating a tub of ice cream with a spoon.

"Oh! Raiders of the Lost Ark, I like that film," the Doctor commented, pointing to the screen. He looked over to Rory. "Can we watch it?"

"No," Rory denied, flipping to the next page of channel options. "You're already wired up, I don't think you need any more action-y related things for a while."

The Doctor scowled. "Fine. What do you suggest?"

Rory shrugged. "A nice comedy, a documentary, maybe a romance film."

"Romance film?"

"They're very provocative and entertaining."

The Doctor snickered and took a bite of his ice cream.

"Oh, you're laughing?" Rory asked. "Perhaps I should mention you singing Britney Spears in the shower yesterday?"

The snickering stopped. "Her songs are catchy."

Rory sighed contently and flipped through the channels. "Boring...boring...boring..."

"No, wait! They have Mulan."

Rory wanted to protest, but honestly he's fought so much with the guy today he decides to let him win this one. "Fine. Mulan it is." He clicked on it, watching the opening credits roll in when an idea comes to mind. He paused the movie.

"Oi, what was that for?" the Doctor asked.

Rory hopped off of the couch and headed towards the kitchen. "Back when I was still a student a couple friends and I would do this." He searched the cabinets for a golden-colored liquid contained in a glass bottle and grabbed it, along with two small glasses. "You'd pick a musical, and any time you started humming along to the song you'd have to take a shot."

There was a short period of silence before the Doctor spoke. "Would this be throughout the entire song or just once per song?" he asked.

"Throughout the entire song," Rory answered, balancing the drinks in his hands and setting them on the table. "How about it?"

The Doctor grinned. "Okay, let's do it. But I should warn you that Time Lords have a high tolerance level."

"I'd like to see that theory be put to the test," Rory fired back, pouring a small amount of liquid into each glass. He sat back against the sofa and pressed play. "Let's do this."

Five shots were taken during "Honor To Us All". By the time they reached"Reflection" they couldn't even hold the glasses right.

_"When will my reflection show..."_

"...who I am," they both sang along, "inside..."

The song ended, and the movies went on. The two idiots were still laughing.

"You..." the Doctor said, pointing at Rory. "You have a _lovely_ singing voice."

The man in question did a mock bow. "I was in my school's choir."

"Were you?"

Rory nodded enthusiastically. "I was. We went to comple-competitions. An' everything."

The Doctor sat back. "Oh, Rory Williams," he muses. "You never fail to surprise me."

"You're pretty surprising, too, Doctor," Rory replied, sitting up to look at him correctly.

"Am I?" he whispered, looking him dead in the eye.

Rory nodded.

And then it just sort of...happened.

He doesn't know how it begun or when it begun, it just did. One moment they're talking, the next they're kissing. And the next moment they're moaning and groping and _oh god_. At first he was the one on top. He started it anyways, he thinks. He wasn't exactly sure, seeing as small things like who kissed who are the far back of his mind. But the position changed quickly and he grunted as his head hit the armrest of the chair. Of course, pain wasn't much of an issue, but it still hurt. They continued and it's back to kissing and moving and sliding and-

And then it stopped. And the next thing he knew, Rory woke up tucked into bed with a horrible headache. He called in sick at work and sat in his bedroom for ten minutes, dreading to open the door and face what the mess waiting for him.

But he opened the door anyway.

He had expected to see the Doctor, still disheveled and probably even more so, sitting on the sofa, looking to talk to him. What he had not expected was the Doctor being fully dressed and making breakfast.

The television was still on and it gave him a migraine, so he groaned and walked over to turn it off.

"Having a nice morning?" the Doctor asked cheerfully.

"Piss off," Rory retorted, falling onto the couch.

"I've got scrambled eggs and coffee when you're ready to stand up," the Doctor informed him. "Meanwhile, I have places to go and things to see."

Rory tried to concentrate through the pounding in his head. "What are you talking about?"

"I have my exams today," the Doctor reminded him. "Might take a while, might not. I'll be back sometime in the afternoon, most likely. Anyways, wish me luck. I have to go."

Rory sat up. "You're leaving? Just like that?"

The Doctor turned to him. "It's just exams, Rory. I'll be back." And with that, he left.

Almost as if nothing had ever happened.

**#**

The Doctor flies through the exams without so much of a hair falling out of place.

Rory dumps all the liquor he can find.

**#**

Rory did hang out with people other than the Doctor. He had friends from work and from the building, and they loved the Doctor. And the Doctor loved them. He loved people in general, there was no denying that. For most of the time when they were around he acted like a normal person. He laughed, he drank, he didn't supply facts about the components of DNA or start telling tales of his travels with other people. He complied to them, acted like them to the best of his ability. It was quite a show, Rory had to say.

The only people who didn't get along with the Doctor were the girlfriends.

Rory had acquired two or three of them during the eight months of being flatmates with the Doctor. They were nice, well-meaning girls who thought Rory was funny and cute. The relationships were great. The only problem is that they usually went downhill when they tried to go back to his place.

The Doctor would not shut up.

The most memorable instance, and consequently the last, was with the latest girlfriend, Eve. She was a fellow nurse at the hospital Rory worked at, and very outspoken. She wasn't afraid to say her opinion on things, which was nice. It always led to good conversation. And on top of that she was stunningly gorgeous.

The date had gone well, he believed. He invited her back for coffee at his flat and she gladly accepted. On the cab ride home he rang up the Doctor, but the answerphone piked up instead. So, he left a small message asking him to stay in his room for a while and thought that would be it. Of course, in the end, he was wrong.

"Nice flat," Eve commented as she walked through the door. He followed behind her.

"Yeah, it's not much," Rory said. "But it is home."

Eve walked into the living room and sat on the sofa, with Rory sitting next to her. "I like it," she said. "Much better than my place, I've got insects everywhere."

"Well, when I come over I'll have to judge that for myself," he joked.

Eve looked at him and smiled. "Yeah, I guess you will."

And it was supposed to be a textbook example of a perfect date from there on out, but then the door opened.

"Rory!" the Doctor called. "Just got your message, I don't know why you'd want me out of your hair, though. I was just-" He paused, looking at the scene before him, and switched his gaze over to Eve. "Oh, you must be Rory's lady friend! So glad to meet you."

Eve smiled. "Same with you." She turned to Rory. "Is this the flatmate you always talk about at work?"

"Rory, I didn't know you talked about me to your coworkers," the Doctor remarked, highly pleased.

Rory flushed. "I don't. Now Doctor, if you could please just-"

"Are you kidding me?" Eve asked. She turned back to the Doctor. "He talks about you all the time, I swear he never shuts up about all the things you say."

"Well, maybe. But Doctor, I was wondering if you could-"

"Sit down with you? I'd love to." Of course, he sat down in the middle, right between them.

"So," Eve said, crossing her arms, "you're the infamous flatmate. The Doctor, right? Sounds like a secret agent name."

"Nah, I'm no secret agent," the Doctor denied. "However, I am very good at reading people."

Eve raised an eyebrow. "You are?"

"Oh no," Rory sighed, rubbing his face. "Here we go again."

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, and I can test it. Here, I'll make some statements and you tell me whether or not they are true or false."

The game started out harmless enough. Your favorite color is blue. You have a pet cat. Your sister works in Cardiff as a temp. You want to go to China when you have the money and want to go visit the Great Wall. It was harmless, perfectly harmless. But it had always started that way.

No matter what was said or how it was said, it was done. And Eve was storming out of the building not ten minutes later.

There was silence in the flat as the Doctor rubbed his cheek.

"Ow, this one's a fighter," he commented. "You should stay with her, Rory, she's nice."

Rory kept his eyes closed. One breath in, one breath out...

"It's a shame she had to leave so early, I bet you too would've hit it off splendidly," the Doctor added.

One breath in...

"I'm sure you could've gotten her to stay just a while longer."

One breath out...

"Ah well. Better luck next time. I'm just going to hop on off to-you alright?"

Rory looked up. "No," he stated. "No, I am not alright."

The Doctor frowned. "Something troubling you?"

"Yes," he answered. "You."

"Me?"

"You keep messing up my dates! You do the same thing, each time. This time with Eve, the last time with Samantha, and before that with Ida. You always do the same thing over and over again, with the 'reading people' set up that ends up in them leaving the flat!"

"I can assure you, Rory, that I never meant to-"

"Oh, you meant to," Rory bit back. He sighed and rubbed his temples. "I just want to know why."

"Why what?"

"Why you keep doing this."

"...I'm bored," is the simple answer.

"You're...bored."

The Doctor shrugged. "I'm done with all my classes, I don't like working. So I...entertain myself."

"By sabotaging my dates."

"Yes, exactly. I just have nothing to do, really."

Rory took another deep breath before standing up. "Why don't we find you someone, then?"

The Doctor looked at him with genuine confusion. "Find me someone?"

"Yeah," Rory said. "Likes the girls from your class, you said they were nice."

The Doctor sneered. "Not my type."

Rory nodded. "Alright. The boys from your class, then."

The Doctor shook his head and stood up, starting to pace. "No, not my type either."

"Then what is your type?"

A considerable pause. "I'd rather not say."

Rory sighed again. "Well, what is your preference? I don't want you sitting around all day feeling bored and sorry for yourself."

"I don't have a _preference_," the Doctor said. "It's whoever happens to come by."

"Well...what about Mindy? You like Mindy," Rory suggested.

"No, not Mindy," the Doctor dismissed.

"Or...Neil. You know, Neil from the ICU ward," Rory conjured.

"No." The Doctor began to pace quicker.

"Or maybe-"

"No, no! Stop, please," the Doctor pleaded. "I don't want you-matchmaking for me, no."

"Then what do you want to do? Because I obviously I can't have you just sit around bored all day, or else you plan to ruin my dates." One breath in, one breath out. "Do you know how long it's been? Four months. And the only time I got even _close_ was with you while I was intoxicated."

The pacing stopped and turned into a slow shuffle. "You remember."

"Of course I do, why wouldn't I?"

He looked down at his feet. "I just thought...never mind."

Rory shook his head, trying to get back on track. "The point is, Doctor, that I just want to be able to find a nice girl, and you should find a nice...whoever for yourself, too. You deserve that."

There was a hesitation from the Doctor and that lasted longer than normal. "I'm not-I don't do this to you because I'm bored," he confessed slowly.

Rory frowned. "They why?"

"Because I...because..." The rest is a murmur that's barely audible.

"What did you say?" Rory asked.

"Because I don't want to..." He cut off, swallowing his words.

"Come on, out with it."

The Doctor took a shaky breath and answered the question slowly. "Because I don't want to lose you." He swallowed again. "I don't want to loose you to somebody else. Or anybody else, really."

If Rory hadn't known any better he swore he could hear a penny drop. "Oh," he said.

The Doctor nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Yeah."

"Well that's...new."

"Yes," the Doctor agreed. "Yes, it um...is."

Rory kept nodding not really knowing what else to do. It was silent.

"So, um," Rory inhaled, pointing his thumb towards his door. "I'm just going to go to bed now. Long day, you know. Lots of...things."

The Doctor nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Go on ahead, get your rest. I should, um, I should do the same."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Rory opened the door. "Well uh...see you in the morning, then."

"You too."

**#**

"Goodbye Leadworth, hello thriving, successful bachelor...Goodbye Leadworth, hello thriving, successful bachelor..."

He repeated the mantra over and over again for the first time in months, trying to take his thoughts away from recent events and over to someplace else. Just as long as he didn't conjure 'affection' and 'Doctor' into the same thought.

Stupid, stupid Rory. How could he have not seen that coming?

He lay awake in his bed, not really tired but more of exhausted. After all, you couldn't really sleep after your alien flatmate just revealed his affections for was one of those things that just needed to be thought over.

The Doctor was a good guy. He was. Sure, he could be slightly irritating sometimes, but he told such amazing stories. His very presence made someone's self confidence skyrocket. He was kind, when we wanted to be, and considerate. Enigmatic, magnetic. To talk with the Doctor was to want to know him, find out about him. Every day he solved a mystery about himself and every day he opened up another one to investigate. He was funny, he was nice to be around with.

And he wasn't half bad looking for a guy like him, if you thought about it. The Doctor really was a guy that you could lay your affe-

"Damn it."

And in that moment, the realization hit Rory Williams square in the chest so hard it hurt.

"Oh my god," he groaned, slamming his face into his pillow. "I'm in love with my flatmate."

**#**

The Doctor was cooking breakfast. Rory was getting ready for work. To the normal spectator, this would seem like a normal morning routine. Alas, the normal spectator was not here the night before.

They avoided eye contact most of the time, silently passing by each other. And they kept a good job of keeping it that way, for most of the morning. Of course, the Doctor spoke first.

"Do you want your eggs scrambled or in an omelette?" he asked.

Rory almost jumped at the sound. "Um...scrambled's nice. Thanks."

"No need to thank me."

Rory continued to watch as the Doctor never broke eye contact with the frying pan, not even to speak, and contemplated on any of his further actions. Rory chose the safest one on a scale from one to accidentally getting the Doctor's trousers burned off in the heat of the moment, and the wisest one in regards to ignoring him completely. And so, Rory walked up to the counter.

"Do you want to do something tonight?" he asked.

The Doctor looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Like...I don't know," Rory said, trying to not look as nervous as he felt. "Maybe...go see a new release at the cinema. Maybe go to dinner right before. Or...something."

The Doctor nodded. "Alright. Dinner and a movie sounds cool."

Rory nodded. "Good...good."

"And the 'or something' is...cool with me. If you like."

Rory blinked. "Oh yeah. Perfectly fine. Great, actually. Uh...yeah."

The Doctor returned his gaze back down to the eggs. "It's a date, then."

"Yep," Rory agreed. "A date."

**#**

The Doctor was correct about himself when they first met. He is a sheet hoarder. And quite a nasty one, too.

Seven more months pass without a hitch. It's almost as if nothing has changed. They bicker, they watch television. The Doctor does his own Doctor-y things while Rory works at the hospital. They make breakfast and dinner and invite friends over. It's all the same, really. The only differences are the cat and the sex.

"Rory, I don't think the cat likes me."

"You insisted on naming him Hephaestus Johannes, it's no wonder he doesn't like you."

"Well, it's a much better name than Tommy," the Doctor argues, spitting the last word out.

"Tommy is a good name. Tommy is simple."

"Hephaestus is the Greek god of blacksmiths and a very nice fellow. He deserves to have a cat named after him."

Rory sighs. "Can we talk about this later? I'm trying to sleep."

"No, I want to talk about this!" the Doctor says. "He bit me yesterday, right on the ankle!"

"Just leave it be, love," Rory dismisses. "It's time to sleep."

"I think we should get another cat," the Doctor proposes. "One that likes me."

"We just got one," Rory sighs, eyes still closed. "Now let me sleep."

"It's nine o'clock in the morning, the time for sleeping is gone."

"If you hadn't kept me up all night I wouldn't be having this problem," Rory reminds him.

The Doctor laughs. "I thought you liked it when I kept you up all night."

Rory finally opens his eyes, turns, and glares at the Doctor until the giggling fades away.

"Fine," the Doctor says. "How about I make it up to you, eh? I'll make you breakfast."

Rory considers this. "Alright. Don't try to cook the cat, please."

"I won't, I won't," the Doctor promises. He plants a kiss in Rory's hair and hops out of bed, quickly putting on yet another random assortment of clothes he finds on the floor before exiting the room.

Not five minutes later there's a sizzling noise and the sound of a cat howling.


End file.
